


Thawing

by Righ (Venenum)



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, but no regrets, i judge myself, iceplay is hot holy wow, idek sometimes you just gotta write porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venenum/pseuds/Righ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has a kink for ice-play. Fortunately, so does Pitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thawing

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this exquisite piece of art.](http://pitch-king-of-nightmares.tumblr.com/post/42151354684/can-i-have-jack-fucking-pitch-please-wow-i-would) (NSFW)

The noise that quavered in the parlor thinned out into a gasp when Jack stilled his hips, a steadying breath blowing through his lips to wrest back some semblance of control. Pitch sneered as hoarfrost threaded over his bare chest, already in a foul mood after half an hour of ice steadily creeping up his arms throughout a particularly extended bout of foreplay.

Jack grinned, sweat plastering stray hairs across a forehead. 

"Need to lodge a complaint?"

Pitch's answer was caught up in a shuddering whine that would never be referenced in the light of day, let alone the shadows. Readjusting taut thighs over the backs of parted, braced legs, he said nothing for a while as Jack fucked the argument out of him with slow, pendulous precision. He looked more than a little frustrated with himself when he couldn't help but bite his own lip to keep from moaning in pleasure.

"Right there, huh?"

The grin morphed into a smirk. Experimentally, Jack gripped the velvet throw over the chaise longue they had all but fallen onto earlier and shifted his weight onto white-knuckled hands, pleased when faster thrusts earned an approving growl. What with how slick and tight Pitch was, ass gripping a cold cock near possessively, it had to feel just as good for both for them by now. 

Screwing the King of Nightmares was a boon unto itself, but getting him to _like_ it …

"You talk too much," Pitch managed, in between finding the purchase on the recliner to match Jack's new rhythm, just fast enough for a swollen head to rub enticingly over the wonderful rise of nerves that his own long fingers usually found with too much work to pay off. "Shut up."

Lowering to an elbow, Jack licked a cold line up the strained tendons in a grey throat, barely thawing the ice that broke out on the surprisingly soft skin behind an ear before replacing it with each new word and sending Pitch squirming. Most of the ice-play was as unintentional as making it hail when he had first been taken up against a dirty coal-black wall a week prior, but not this. As temporary as the frost was, every thaw begged to be replaced.

"You know," he started conversationally, relishing the strangled cry of _Shut up, just move_ that a drawn-out grind gleaned, "I'm in no rush to leave. There's enough snow to last Burgess for days, I could have a lot of fun down here for a while yet. Would you like that?"

A terse grip yanked back on feathery locks, exposing a delightfully alluring neck to the elements in Jack's appreciative sighs when he received no answer, renewing their fucking in earnest. 

Pitch strained against the hold; _keened_ when it tightened.

"Just me," pallid blue lips skated over an absent pulse as Jack used his free hand to hold a hip steady, impatiently surging into sticky-cool perfection, "and you, sucking my cock so you can ride it for hours. I'll make you come so much you'll be laughing _tears_ when you beg me to stop, the best bittersweet nightmare. Fuck, _Kozmotis_ …"

Nails raked up hunched shoulders as Jack devolved into grunts and reiterations of a name he loved to curl around his tongue. Wrecked and desperate to get off, Pitch reached down to stroke his aching erection and snarled when his touch was slapped away, shortly replaced by an icy palm.

"Damn you, that's cold!"

"You're still hard for me," Jack cockily noted, lapping his way into a reluctant kiss on Pitch's part. He made the most of it, sucking devoutly to imitate the hold around his cock and loving the whimpers that drawing a clever tongue over his own produced. The smile that waxed was nipped in punishment. "Must like getting nailed by a … what was it, you said?"

"A bloody icicle."

Something flip-flopped in the pit of Jack's gut at the memory, dick twitching. Pitch slanted him a look through sloe-golden eyes.

"I want to —"

"No."

"— see you open up around me," rushed Jack, laughter lost as he gave into the careful coaxing to lose the tempo of the moment, breathlessly aroused by what he had and what he suddenly wanted. A groan mashed into a biting kiss, hurried and desperate. "Watch you inch by inch, put up with the pain, _ngh_ , I'd let it hurt a little. I'd make it bigger the longer you took it, pry you apart with the best view of all, watch your legs spread for me as you suck on another icicle from my fingers, _fuck_ , hear you beg and feel it vibrate with my _name_ —"

Shuddering as Pitch's back bowed sharply off the damp cushioning, the spatter of come that glanced Jack's chin was paid no heed in favor of lapping up the fresh stains over a dead heart, sucking off the unpleasant taste underlaid with his own ice. Once more, nails carved across the globes of his ass, shoving barely divested breeches lower to drag him closer until he could only bury the trembling mess he was in an ass and neck as he rode his own spiking arousal, snarls of black hair twisted uncomfortably around his knuckles to repay the wavering pain threshold.

The fall back to reality was a gradual one. Having only had the patience to yank off his hoodie and tear open the shadows of a robe, something had knotted irritatingly around Jack's ankle and he could feel the tension shivering in the thighs stretched wide in the wake of hasty lust. One look at Pitch confirmed the Boogeyman was eking out the afterglow for all it was worth, panting like a racehorse.

A mildly chagrined mutter of, "I _really_ want to fuck you with an icicle," under the strong jut of a jaw-line garnered a resigned, put-upon sigh and a pat on Jack's back.

“Maybe.”


End file.
